


I Can't Take This Anymore

by JMount74



Series: Febuwhump [2]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Drinking, Face Slapping, Gen, Grief, slapping a teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29151273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMount74/pseuds/JMount74
Summary: A grief-filled Jeff reacts.
Series: Febuwhump [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137590
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	I Can't Take This Anymore

‘I can’t take this anymore!’ 

It’s more of a scream than a roar, but there is no doubting the anguish and heartbreak at its’ source. It’s closely followed by the sounds of a bottle smashing against the wall.

It’s the third bottle tonight to have met it’s fate this way, but it is not enough. It will never be enough, and he picks up a fourth and takes a hefty swig.

‘I hate you! I _hate_ you, you selfish bitch. How could you do that to me?’ And suddenly he’s sweeping papers to the floor as he drinks from the bottle. 

It still isn’t enough though, and the half-full fourth bottle joins it’s brothers as he uses both hands now in a flurry of rage and movement. He starts with the desk – heavier than it looks but he’s soon overturned it. It’s joined by the bookcase, then the chair. And all the while he’s cursing her, cursing the day he met her, wishing, wishing, wishing.

His fists are pounding along to the curses, an added emphasis to the fear and the loneliness and the hate. His vision is gone, all white heat and red hate, and he’s not really in control anymore. 

Thump, thump, thump, thump. Punch, punch, punch, punch. Smash, smash, smash, smash.

And there’s just a moment of hesitation. Because that last punch didn’t land on a wall. It landed on something soft yet hard. But his addled brain can’t work it out, it just files it as ‘different’ and he turns to smash again.

Arms snake out around him and lock his arms to his sides. He struggles against them, but they are locked out, and his strength is diminishing along with his rage. Suddenly his legs go out from under him, and he’s sitting on the floor, that same somebody cradling him tightly.

Jeff Tracy weeps.

He weeps until he falls asleep against whoever it is holding him.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Jeff’s next coherent thought is ‘uhhhggg.’ Followed closely by ‘oww.’ And then the thought hits him that he is in a bed. He wants to get up, but the pounding of his head and the roiling of his stomach convince him to stay where he is.

He opens one eye and looks around the room. The curtain is slightly apart, and the sun’s beam upon the bed is probably what has woken him, but it’s the posters on the walls that catch his interest.

What on earth is he doing in Scott’s bed?

His eldest is nowhere to be seen, and Jeff spies a tall glass of water and some painkillers on the stand beside the bed. Gratefully, he downs it in one and takes the tablets. He rests his eyes as he tries to work out what the hell happened last night.

Nothing. He can’t remember a thing. Well, he might not be able to remember, but the hangover tells him enough. He grimaces, angry with himself. Sure he was a mess, sure he was drinking way too much, but so far he’d managed to keep it away from his boys. What the hell had happened last night? Still nothing, so Jeff decides the best thing is to get up, dressed and off to work before he has to face any of them.

Before he has to face Scott.

It doesn’t play out that way because, of course it doesn’t, he’s a Tracy and should know better than to expect a break. He gets all the way to the bathroom before he registers that it’s daytime. But the house is unexpectedly quiet, so Jeff detours to his bedroom and dresses there.

The clock says it is 1:30pm. That can’t be right! Seriously? He is so late for work, and Jeff speeds up dressing and rushes down the stairs.

Scott is waiting for him at the bottom. The sullen-faced teen is standing stiffly, arms folded across his chest. Waiting. And suddenly Jeff feels like the teenager waiting to be told off by his mom. But he is not the teenager, Scott is, and he straightens in defiance at his son.

‘Where are you rushing off to, father?’ And Jeff winces. Scott never calls him Dad anymore, and that somehow hurts almost as much as what happened. He coughs to clear his throat. ‘I’m off to work.’ If anything, Scott straightens more at this, and Jeff wonders if he realises the scowl now crossing his face makes him seem like the teenager he is. ‘Don’t bother. I called your secretary and told her to rearrange all your meetings today as you were ill.’

With that, Scott turns his back on Jeff and goes to the kitchen. Jeff stands there stunned for all of ten seconds as he processes what he just heard, and he storms off after his eldest, slamming the kitchen door behind him in the process.

‘What! How dare you! What gives you the right…’ Jeff starts but Scott cuts him off, as furious as his father is. ‘What gave me the right was the fact that I had to carry you to bed last night! What gave me the right is having to listen to you rant and rave and destroy your study while you drank yourself stupid! What gave me the right is having to listen to you scream your hatred of my mother over and over and over again.’ 

Scott’s chest is heaving, and he is crying by the end of speaking, and Jeff can only see hatred in his son’s face. He reaches out to his son, only for Scott to flinch back away from him, and that cuts him even more.

They stand there, facing each other, uncertain as to where they go forward from here. 

Jeff is sure he can hear Scott’s heart beating wildly, and he is certain Scott can hear his. Still he says nothing, though, for he cannot think of anything that would make this better.

He needs a drink. A drink will help him settle his mind. Scott stays where he is and watches as Jeff searches the cabinets for a bottle. There are none. Suddenly the search is more frantic. Where are they all? Jeff tears into the study – nothing. His bedroom – nothing. What the hell?

Returning to the kitchen Jeff marches straight up to Scott. There is a fleeting recognition of what appears to be the start of a black eye forming, but that is not the important thing here. He is right up into his son’s face and Scott just stands there, waiting for it. And it comes hard. 

‘What did you do?’ The accusation is almost whispered, but Scott cannot fail to hear the anger, the disbelief in it. Knowing the reaction he is likely to get, he braces himself. ‘I threw it all down the drain. Every last bottle.’ And before Jeff is even aware that he is doing it, there is a resounding slap.

Jeff staggers back, unable to believe what he just did. When did he get, how did he get to be like this? He lurches forward to grab Scott, to apologise, but again Scott moves out of his reach.

Scott stares at the man who is his father. His heart is broken, but this day had been coming for so long. It is why he asked John to take the kids out for the day. Scott squares his shoulders, for what he about to say next will dictate the rest of their lives.

‘I can’t take this anymore. We can’t take this anymore. Either sort yourself out and start becoming our father again or get out.’

And with that ultimatum Scott turns on his heel and leaves Jeff alone.


End file.
